


Last Night on Tatooine

by Thymesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange 2018, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Post-Canon, Prostitute! Obi-Wan, Sex Work, Treat, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: A decommissioned clone trooper patronizes a brothel on Tatooine and encounters a very familiar-looking male prostitute.





	Last Night on Tatooine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Where do decommissioned clone troopers go?

Nowhere luxurious, that was for damn fucking sure. Cody didn’t receive the pension to support that sort of lifestyle. Apparently Emperor Palpatine didn’t want the good, taxpaying subjects of his new Galactic Empire to be inconvenienced by the subhuman refuse.

Which, by the way, was what Cody had become in the nine years since the conclusion of the war. Refuse. Garbage. Trash. Rubbish. He preferred not to show his face in polite social circles because, let’s face it, he and his surviving brothers (too few, too few!) weren’t welcome.

Even on Hutt-controlled desert shitholes like this one, Cody’s presence was at best tolerated. He was good only as long as his credits were good.

Good thing, then, that everything was cheap. Food, lodging, intoxicating beverages. He’d become rather partial to the fizzy, fermented blue milk. It was called kumis, and beneath the unexpectedly refreshing acidity, it had quite a kick.

Still, all good things had to end sometime. As a rule, Cody never stayed on at any one planet or system for long, and tonight was his last night on Tatooine. He figured he ought to go out with a bang.

Fortunately, whores were cheap too. Especially the older, male ones, which were the ones Cody preferred. The package deals at Mos Eisley’s seedier brothels were among the best he’d ever found anywhere in the galaxy.

“You’ll be in room twelve tonight,” the KT-series droid behind the counter informed him in its flat, bland, artificially feminine voice. “Please proceed at your convenience. Thank you for your patronage.”

Room twelve was the last door on the right of a long, narrow hallway. The whore was already waiting within, reclining comfortably on the expansive bed. He sat up and turned upon hearing Cody’s entrance.

“Hello there,” he said.

Cody went hot, then cold. He assumed a defensive stance, hand resting on the hilt of his concealed blaster. The door swished shut unnoticed behind him.

“Jedi!” Cody hissed.

“I beg your pardon?” The whore blinked, seemingly confused for a moment, before gesturing idly in the direction of Cody’s blaster. “Please be aware that you will be debited in full for any property damage.”

“If I were you, General Kenobi”—Cody spat the name of his former commanding officer like the obscenity that it was and aimed the blaster point-blank at his chest—“I wouldn’t be worrying about burn scoring to the _walls_.”

The whore actually had the temerity to laugh. “Forgive me, but did you just call me a General? A _Jedi_ General?” He laughed again. “Oh, I see. You want to roleplay. Can I just wave my hand now and convince you that you’ve had the best lay of your life and plan to leave me a five-hundred credit tip?”

Cody’s eyes narrowed. There was more gray in his beard and at his temples, more lines etched into his face when he smiled, but this was General Kenobi. No doubt about it. “Jedi mind tricks don’t work on Kaminoan clones. You know that.”

“You’re a clone?” the whore asked stupidly. “Hmm, I’ve never had a clone before. Is it a case of had one, had ’em all, or are each of you different when—”

Cody growled in sheer frustration, and the whore’s idiotic chatter cut off abruptly. How could a Jedi Master have fallen so far?!

“Erm, look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot there.” The whore brushed the front of his simple, roughspun robe self-consciously and began to approach Cody with no small amount of caution. “Can we try again? My name is Ben. You’ve paid for my services in advance for the entire night, so please tell me how you want me. And it would be good if you gave me a name to call you too…”

Cody took in the whore’s—no, he said his name was Ben— _Ben’s_ tentative expression, and he began to doubt his first impression. He of all beings shouldn’t be leaping to conclusions based upon physical resemblance, and Maker knew humans were ubiquitous throughout the known galaxy. A finite number of genes in an enormous but finite variety of combinations… Yes, the resemblance _had_ to be a coincidence. Besides, Jedi were strictly celibate. No self-respecting Jedi Master, and certainly not one as proper as General Kenobi, would be asking Cody how he took his fucks!

Fine. It ought to be an…interesting change of pace. Call it a plunge down memory lane. He lowered his weapon.

“I’m Cody,” Cody said. It was only a nickname anyway, and even if it weren’t what did it matter? In a seedy brothel on some backwater planet? He wasn’t coming back.

“All right, Cody, please make yourself comfortable. Would you like me to help you undress?” Ben asked.

He decided to allow it. Ben’s hands were deft and sure, but gentle, and he brushed his fingertips over Cody’s scars with evident compassion.

It was arousing.

“How do you want me?” Ben asked again.

“Naked.”

Ben nodded and shrugged his robe off without further comment.

Cody was impressed by what was underneath, almost in spite of himself. Ben was not young, no, not anymore, and he was about as unlike a high-class Core whore as Cody was liable to find anywhere on the Outer Rim, yet his body was unexpectedly handsome and athletic nonetheless. Strong in the hips and thighs especially. He looked like he was going to be excellent in the sack.

And he had a big cock. Already fully, beautifully erect. Cody had paid extra for that cock.

Trying not to appear too eager—oh, hell with it, he was eager, why hide it?—Cody planted himself facedown on the bed. “Fast and rough. In the arse,” he clarified, since it didn’t necessarily seem like Ben was the brightest of plasma torches.

He was expecting to feel the weight of Ben’s body settling onto the bed behind him…but nothing. Instead, Cody heard the sound of a jar opening. He propped himself up on one elbow, only to see Ben scooping a generous portion of lubricant gel onto his fingers.

“No grease! I said fast and rough, didn’t I? I want it to hurt.”

Ben frowned. “Hurting you means hurting _me_ —and I can’t do my job, err, _you_ , if I become injured,” he pointed out, trying to be reasonable.

“I. Said. No. Grease.” Cody was in no mood to be reasoned with.

Ben heaved a long-suffering sigh. He looked and sounded so much like General Kenobi in that moment that Cody felt an irrational stab of fear. What was he doing, making himself vulnerable like this to someone resembling someone he’d failed to execute for treason?! Ooooohhhhh… He shivered with anticipation. The adrenaline rush was heightening his arousal.

“Hurry up already.”

Another sigh, and finally Ben was positioning himself. Cody could feel the brush of a blunt cockhead against his arsehole. It felt cool and slick. The lubricant gel.

“Dammit, I _told_ you—”

“Hush.”

And then Ben was surging into him, brutal and all the way to the hilt, and Cody forgot his complaints. Forgot what he was thinking. Forgot, for a second, even to _breathe_. Oh, Ben was big, bigger than ought to have been possible, and he stretched Cody, filled him practically to tearing, to bursting, almost beyond what he was capable of taking. Almost. But not quite. And then the thrusts, hard and fast, rough, deep strokes that hammered his prostate at every pass. In and out, in and out, in and out. Over and over and over. Exactly what he wanted.

What he needed.

Yes, that rhythmic, burning slide of Ben’s cock obliterated everything else. Everything that Cody would rather not have to remember.

And oh fuck! It seemed to go on forever. Ben had fantastic stamina; those shapely hips and thighs never seemed to tire, even as he came in Cody, once and then a second time. He simply continued thrusting straight through his ejaculations, pounding and grinding all the harder, if possible, as he spurted, obscene squelching sounds from Cody’s loosened arsehole, and sliding his arms underneath Cody’s chest to wrap around his shoulders and pull their bodies tighter together.

Ben was panting now, and so was Cody, a pillow in his fists, a death grip, hanging on for dear life, and they were skin to skin, damp with sweat, Ben’s chest heavy on Cody’s back, the scent of their sex rising into the air all around them. Ben paused for a moment, balls crushed against Cody’s backside. Then he pulled out and plunged back in, burying his face into the nape of Cody’s neck as he did so, his coarse facial hair tantalizing, the wet smear of his slack, open mouth exquisite—

“Cody,” Ben moaned, guttural and broken, cock still relentlessly plowing him.

It was the voice of General Kenobi. Calling out his name in lust, with desire.

Cody roared as his orgasm overtook him, so intense and unexpected that his vision seemed to white out.

When he came to, Ben had rolled him over onto his side, off of the giant wet spot blooming on the mattress, and they were still joined. But Ben was fucking him gently now, with slow, sweet thrusts. His arms were wrapped around Cody’s chest, the pad of one thumb teasing a nipple to pebbly hardness, and Cody was too boneless, too satisfied by his recent orgasm to mount any protest, to do anything but doze and let this odd, aging whore with the big cock and the face of a long lost Jedi Master have his way with Cody until, with a soft hitch of his breath and a whimper, he came inside him yet again.

They slept after that, chest to chest, legs tangled, Cody nestled in the warm, safe circle of Ben’s embrace. As always, his dreams were troubled, and at one point he awakened with a scream of animal fear and fury, lashing out, photon cannons and thermal detonators and battle droids and…and…

“Hey, it’s all right. You were having a bad dream.”

Ben.

No, not Ben. In the sheltering darkness that reigned in the brothel room, this wasn’t another callow, stupid whore. This was General Kenobi. Courageous negotiator and genius tactician. Beloved Obi-Wan. Yes, it could be him. It sounded like him. It felt like him. It even _smelled_ like him.

“Why?” Cody whispered into the darkness. “Why? The endless fighting, the deaths, the struggle to save the Republic? What was it all for, now that we’ve been cast aside? Was it worth it? Was _the Empire_ worth it? Why must we be the ones left alive?!”

“Hush,” Ben murmured, caressing his head. “You shouldn’t ask these questions. Not when the answers will only hurt worse.”

He was right. Bizarrely, he was right. Cody sobbed. “But it already hurts! So, so much…”

“I know. Hush.”

In the early hours of dawn, Ben rolled him back over onto his belly and fucked him so deliciously hard that it brought involuntary tears of agony and ecstasy to his eyes. A good pain, simple, honest, straightforward, cleansing the mind. He put his hand on Cody’s cock too this time, tugging on the shaft remorselessly and digging into the slit as Cody convulsed, his semen spilling around and over Ben’s fingers.

Then it was time to leave. Ben stood and watched, arms crossed and folded demurely into the sleeves of his robe, while Cody dressed himself and fished a large, crumpled wad of credit bills out from his belt pouch. It wasn’t a five-hundred credit tip, not quite, but it was extraordinarily generous, several times more than he’d paid for the package deal proper.

When he pressed the wad into Ben’s hand, Ben leaned forward and kissed him. On the lips, like a lover. Whores, he knew, didn’t normally do that. Maybe Ben had enjoyed his night with Cody as well.

“May the Force be with you, Commander Cody,” Ben said. He smiled, and there was a familiar, merry twinkle in his clear blue eyes.

Cody merely nodded and turned toward the door, telling himself that the whore couldn’t resist a bit of roleplay after all. That was all this had been to him, to both of them. Just a silly diversion. Harmless fun. Release.

He didn’t stop to wonder how Ben had guessed his old rank.

It was Cody’s last night on Tatooine, and after he’d gone, he never returned.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> (1) The idea of Obi-Wan as a sex worker on Tatooine between the events of the prequel and original trilogies comes from [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553531). Maybe it could be the same Obi-Wan? I don’t know!
> 
> (2) Posted to the exchange on January 16, 2018.


End file.
